


Somethin' Bad

by therighteouswriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dean is a psychopath, Dom Dean, Dom/sub, Explicit Language, Face Slapping, Hair-pulling, Knifeplay, M/M, Mentions of Underage, Name-Calling, Panty Kink, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Roughness, Sam has sociopathic tendencies, Self-Hatred, Serial Killer Dean, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Sub Sam, Talk of Suicide, Threesome - F/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-03-30 04:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3922111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therighteouswriter/pseuds/therighteouswriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the sudden, tragic death of their beloved mother sets Dean on a dark and dangerous path, Sam has to fight to keep his big brother's demons at bay. All the while struggling to keep his own in check.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so firstly, I don't have an editor for my work so I would like to apologize for any mistakes I make in this story! I will try my best to catch them but any I miss, please forgive me. <3 Next, I'd just like to warn everybody that this story is going to be quite dark. I've tagged what I know is going to be in the story so far, and I will definitely update the tags as I go along. 
> 
> Alright, I think that's it. :D Hope you guys enjoy!

_Stand on the bar, stomp your feet, start clapping_  
_Got a real good feeling something bad about to happen_  
_Drinks keep coming, throw my head back laughing_  
_Wake up in the mornin’ don’t know what happened_

 

 

 

It was one a.m. and Sam was alone in the diner. He sipped his coffee slowly, tired eyes desperately trying to focus on his notes. He’d come to the diner for some peace and quiet. When he’d left his apartment earlier that evening, his roommates, Brady and Christian, had just kicked off one hell of a party. And Sam knew he’d never retain any information with buddies drinking and having a good time in the next room so he’d bailed.

 

Not that Sam had a problem with parties, because he didn’t. It was just that he _really_ needed to study. He had an exam the next day in his Myth, Law, and Practice class that would kick his ass if he didn’t put in the proper amount of effort.  

 

_“ **Breaking news:** Authorities in Texas say they are on the lookout for a serial killer.” _

Looking up, Sam focused his gaze on the television that was mounted on the wall just to the left of his booth. He hadn’t paid it much mind up until then, catching bits and pieces of reports on local crime, and a small tidbit about the weather.

 

_“There are no details regarding the killer’s appearance. However, authorities have confirmed that the suspect is male. According to police reports, the killer’s MO is seducing young women, mainly young blondes with blue eyes, before tying them up and draining them of blood.”_

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He felt the hair on the back on his neck stand up; heart beating so fast he thought he might faint. Gripping his coffee cup tightly, memories of Dean flooded his mind.

 

**The girl wasn’t naturally blonde. Sam could tell because her roots were dark brown. However, despite the dye, her bleached hair was luscious, healthy. Large ringlets of curls twisting down to her waist. She was on her knees in the middle of Dean’s bed, completely naked, staring at Sam with bright, innocent blue eyes. His brother was sitting next to her, attention focused on Sam as well, studying his brother for any sort of reaction.**

**Trailing his gaze downward, Sam felt a lump begin to form in his throat when he realized the girl was tied up. Her arms were placed parallel to each other in front of her, wrists tied securely in a square knot; the remaining rope wrapped around both her arms, intricately woven to perfection. Sam could tell Dean had taken pride in his work; saw this girl’s bounds as a piece of art he’d created.**

**“What do ya think little brother?”**

**Dean sounded nervous, almost desperate for Sam’s approval. He hadn’t let that desperation show in his body language though. Just sat there with a look of indifference on his handsome face while his fingers worked at the girl’s clit; breathy, barely audible moans spilling from her thick, glossy lips.**

**He hadn’t been expecting this. When Dean had told Sam he wanted to show him something, he’d never thought in a million years it would be a naked girl. Or that she’d be tied up.**

**“…D-Dean…What the hell?”**

**Sam wanted to be disgusted. Outraged. But he wasn’t. And Dean knew that just by looking at him. Saw the way Sam eyed the girl hungrily, strained cock visible through his jeans.**

**The girl’s body was gorgeous, Sam had to admit. Hourglass figure, soft, beautiful pale skin covered with goosebumps. Her breasts were perky, nipples visibly hard. She had a toned core, and her belly button was pierced. Her hip bones were sharp, skin smooth, without hair, all the way down to her pussy.**

**“C’mon Sammy, don’t be rude. Tell our guest how sexy she looks all tied up like this.”**

**Dean had never done anything like this before. Never asked Sam to engage in a sexual situation with him involving one of Dean’s partners. And Sam was fighting the urge to throw up. This was so wrong! They were brothers. They shouldn’t be doing this.**

**Dean had kissed Sam before, sure. Even convinced Sam to let him tie him up a couple of times. But Sam had chalked that up to Dean and him experimenting with their sexuality. Helping each other explore. It was never supposed to go any further than a couple of make out sessions and some heavy petting.**

Sam had always known there was something off about his big brother; known that behind those beautiful green eyes and staggering charm that there was a darkness. A darkness that clawed at Dean’s insides, threatening to rip him apart if he didn’t sate it often enough. Ever since they were kids, Sam had known his brother struggled to keep his demons at bay. Despite Dean’s best efforts to convince the world that he was normal; that he was in control of his urges.

 

And for the most part, Dean did an excellent job of keeping up appearances. He’d made a name from himself growing up in the small town of Tyler, Texas. All-American quarterback, high school heartthrob, down to earth Southern boy, that was Dean Winchester.

 

He had everyone fooled. Everyone except for his family, of course. Dean couldn’t hide who he was from them. And honestly, Sam didn’t think Dean even tried to hide it from him, because he knew he didn’t have to. Sam and Dean were extremely close. Loved each other deeply in spite of their flaws. Growing up Dean kept an eye out for Sam; protected him from bullies, educated him on cars, music, and girls. He was more of a father to Sam than their actual dad ever was. Sam felt a strong, and frankly overwhelming, connection with his big brother. He loved Dean more than anyone. Even his own mother.

 

Dean had tried to hide his true nature from their parents though. Not that it had done him any good. John, their father, had still treated Dean like a disease. Like he couldn’t stand the sight of him. Sam loathed the way John used to look at Dean. The thought made his skin crawl to that very day.

 

John and Dean had fought constantly. Verbally and physically. To tell the truth, Sam knew if it wasn’t for Mary, their loving, and understanding mother, John would have killed Dean. Maybe not on purpose, but he would have done it.

 

And he couldn’t even blame his older brother for taking the first opportunity he had gotten to get out from under John’s roof when he turned eighteen. Even though a small, irrational part of Sam felt like Dean had abandoned him.

 

He couldn’t be angry with Dean though. Not when he’d seen the way John had mistreated him. Known that John had made his brother go days without food in the name of punishment; beaten Dean to within an inch of his life because he’d spoken out of turn.

 

Sometimes Sam wondered how Dean survived John’s wrath; wondered how he’d put up with all those years of abuse. He even wondered, in his darkest moments, why Dean didn’t just end it himself. Why he hadn’t tried to escape from the pain by taking his own life. After all, Sam wasn’t blind. He knew Dean was drowning in self-hatred. And he often wondered if his brother, under that ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and his crippling sarcasm, loathed the monster he was just as much as John did. Sam knew his brother hated himself. He just wasn’t sure why. Was it because he couldn’t control his dark nature? Or was it because he didn’t want to?

 

Regardless of the reason, Sam knew, deep down inside, why Dean had held on; why he had kept fighting. It had been Mary’s love. She had been Dean’s saving grace; his safe haven. She was his paradise while John was his hell. Mary kept Dean steady, contained. She calmed him when nothing else could.

 

_“Authorities believe that the killer is charismatic and capable of appearing stable. They also believe he does not pose a threat to his victims until he has been sexually satisfied. And they are urging women who fit the killer’s type to be extremely cautious.”_

“Would you like some more coffee?”

 

The waitress’ voice startled Sam out of his daze. He jumped violently, hazel eyes wide with terror. Like she knew what he’d been thinking about.

 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“…No problem, darlin’. Just been a long night,” Sam replied with a weak smile, pushing his empty coffee cup forward.

 

The waitress nodded her head sympathetically as she refilled Sam’s drink. He looked up at her cautiously, relieved to see that she didn’t seem to notice his distress.

 

**“…Dean...”**

**“That wasn’t a request, Sam.”**

**Letting out a shaky breath, Sam turned his attention to the girl tied up to Dean’s right. Her head was tilted to the side, an eyebrow raised questioningly. It was clear she didn’t realize that this was all a shock to Sam. Perhaps Dean had told her Sam would be a willing participant?**

**“ _Sam_.” **

**Dean was angry now. And before Sam could even blink, his brother’s hand was twisted in the girl’s long blonde hair, yanking on it roughly. She let out a soft cry but didn’t struggle; allowing Dean to trail searing hot kisses down her jawline.**

**“What’s the matter, baby brother? Is she not attractive enough for you? Don’t you like the way the rope lays across her skin? Marking up this smooth, pretty flesh. Look, Sammy. See how it’s all nice and red?”**

**Sam hated the way his body reacted to Dean’s words. He hated that his brother could read him, knew he was turned on despite his protests.**

**“…She…she is sexy.”**

**It was as though someone had physically ripped the words out of Sam’s throat, each syllable strained, and distorted. He was sweating, body trembling from head to toe as Dean looked up at him, head cocked to the side.**

**“That didn’t sound very convincing, Sammy,” Dean challenged as he reached into his pocket with his free hand to retrieve the butterfly knife he always carried.**

**Biting her bottom lip, the blonde girl eyed the knife nervously but remained silent. She barely even flinched when Dean flipped it open with one quick jerk of his wrist, bringing the blade up to the top of her right breast.**

**“If you’re bored, baby brother, I could always find us a different girl.”**

**A wave of nausea hit Sam like a ton of bricks when Dean drug the blade of the knife across the girl’s skin, creating a long, shallow cut. Blood trickled down her breast as she screamed, beautiful face twisted with pain.**

**“Dean, please! I’m telling the truth, she’s sexy!”**

**Sam wasn’t lying. He was attracted to the girl. And a sick, sexually deviant, part of him enjoyed what Dean was doing. The way he was controlling this girl, controlling Sam. It didn’t matter though. Sam knew this was wrong, for so many reasons. He couldn’t be fully engaged, couldn’t give Dean what he wanted when his conscience was screaming at him to run.**

**“Okay, Sammy. I believe you.”**

**Dean was smiling; clearly amused that he was able to get such a reaction out of his brother. Leaning down, Dean wrapped his mouth around the girl’s nipple, sucking on it gently. He slipped his left hand between her legs, teasing her with his fingertips as he ran his tongue over the cut on her breast.**

**“ _Dean_.” **

**The girl was struggling against her restrains, desperate to be touched. Sam felt as though someone had shot him up with adrenaline, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through his veins. He’d never experienced anything like this before. To want something even though it made him feel so utterly wrong.**

**Sam jumped slightly when Dean shoved the girl onto her stomach without warning, exposing her bare ass. She moaned when Dean slid his hand between her legs once more, pumping his index finger in and out of her slowly.**

**“You want her, Sammy?” Dean asked in a husky tone as he closed his butterfly knife with his free hand, slipping it back into his pocket.**

**“…Dean…I’ve never…”**

**Sam was only fourteen. He was a virgin. A frighten, sexually inexperienced virgin. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of a complete stranger. But mostly he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of Dean.**

**“Hey, it’s okay, baby boy. I’ve got you. You know big brother will teach you the ropes, so to speak,” Dean chuckled, shooting Sam a playful wink.**

**And although Sam knew he shouldn’t have said yes, he did; losing his virginity as his brother watched, Dean coaxing him through the entire experience and getting him drunk on praise.**

**Dean came in the girl’s mouth, but didn’t untie her when they were done. He was unbelievably gentle with Sam, but treated the girl like she was a ragdoll. And when Dean made Sam leave his room, forcing him to swear that he’d never tell a soul about the girl or what they had done, he knew his brother was going to do something bad. Something inexplicably cruel.**

“You ready for the check, honey?”

 

Sam looked at the waitress again, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t know how many times she’d asked him that question, but from the concerned expression on her face, he figured it was more than once.

 

“Yeah, sorry. Just a little shaken by that report. I grew up in Texas. Hits close to home, ya know?”

 

“No worries, sweetheart. I totally get it. It’s terrible. What kind of sicko gets his rocks off by tying up some helpless girl and cutting her open? Disgusting. We can only pray that they catch the freak.”

 

“…Yeah…I hope so…”

 

Sam was quite aware that he didn’t sound the least bit convincing but the waitress didn’t seem to notice. Instead she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before setting his bill on the table. And once she was out of sight, Sam out a long, deep sigh as he gathered his textbooks and notes, shoving them back into his backpack.

 

He couldn’t say with certainty that his big brother was the killer, and he didn’t want to jump to conclusions; hated that his mind even went there. Dean might have had issues but he was still Sam’s brother. And he wouldn’t…scratch that, he _couldn’t_ condemn him without knowing all the facts. Dean liked to tie people up, so what? He wasn’t the only one in the world who did, that was for sure. He wasn’t even the only person who liked cutting people. Sam knew that now. Once he was old enough, he’d done countless hours of research on bondage and knife play, desperate to understand his big brother’s infatuation with the two subjects; to understand his own infatuation. And just because Dean was kinky, that didn’t make him a killer. No, this had to be someone else.

 

Hell, maybe Dean wasn’t even into that stuff anymore? After all, it had been three years since Sam had seen his brother. Not since Dean had turned twenty-one and hightailed it out of Tyler as fast as the Impala would let him.

 

That had been one of the saddest days his life. The memory crystal clear in Sam’s mind of him trying not to cry as Dean hugged him, promising him that it wasn’t goodbye forever, just for right now.

 

Sam had felt so hopeless without Dean. He didn’t fit in with the kids at school, couldn’t identify with his parents. Especially John. He could barely look at that bastard. And for a year, he had to suffer in that hellhole alone.

 

Things were different though. He was at college now. Stanford to be exact, his dream school. He had amazing grades, awesome roommates, and he missed Dean a little less every day. Surrounded by all these new distractions, Sam didn’t have as much time to think about his relationship with his big brother. That perverse side of him that only Dean could bring out. And most days he was grateful for that. But others…

 

Sam was getting to his feet when his cell phone rang. Fishing the device out of his pocket, Sam’s heart picked up its pace when he saw the word **Dad** flashing repeatedly on the screen. Why the hell was John calling him at one thirty in the morning? Actually, why was John calling him at all?

 

Pressing the talk button, he quickly lifted the phone to his ear, the sound of static crackling over the line.

 

“Dad? What’s going on?”

 

“…Sam….It’s your mother.”

 

John’s voice cracked and Sam’s heart fell through his stomach. Sitting back down, he cover his face with his left hand, willing himself to speak.

 

“Wh-what happened?”

 

“…She passed away about an hour ago, son. I’m sorry.”

 

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This couldn’t be happening. Mary wasn’t even sick! She was happy and healthy, he’d only just spoken to her two days ago.

 

“…I don’t understand…How?”

 

“She had an aneurysm in her brain…it ruptured. There was nothing the doctor could do, Sammy.”

 

Sam cringed at the nickname, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t know what he hated more. John for acting like a caring parent for once in his miserable life; or for actually wanting to comfort his father.

 

“…M’sorry dad…”

 

He didn’t know what else to say. His whole body felt numb, and it was hard to breath.

 

“Me too, son….Sam, listen…your brother doesn’t know. Dean and I haven’t spoken in years and I got no idea where Mary kept his contact information…And truthfully, I’m just not up to looking through her stuff. You got a number for him?”

 

He did. To a cell phone that Dean hardly answered.

 

“Yeah…I’ll, um, give him a call…Wh-when is the service?”

 

Sam was pretty sure he was in shock. Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion, even though his brain was working overtime.

 

“Couple of days, just gotta get the arrangements in order…can you make it?

 

“Course I can, dad. I’ll book a flight as soon as possible.”

 

“Alright, son, see you soon. And make sure your brother shows up, yeah? It’d break my heart if Dean missed his mother’s funeral cause there’s  bad blood between us.”

 

“…I’ll do my best, sir.”

 

With that, Sam hung up, resisting the urge to throw his cell phone across the diner. How John was able to manipulate him like that, have him so desperate to be a “good son,” he’d never know. Sam hated John. Yet, he wanted to impress him; wanted his approval. It made him feel pathetic.

 

Tears streamed down Sam face as he sat in the booth quietly, trying to gather the strength to call Dean. He knew his brother would be devastated, and he hated that he had to be the one to deliver such awful news. And after thirty painfully long minutes, Sam finally forced himself to click Dean’s number, hitting the talk button before he lost his courage.

 

After about six rings Dean’s phone went to voicemail. Sam wasn’t sure what to say, so he blurted out the truth. It was shitty. But he needed to say the words out loud, to feel them. Honestly, it was sad that even Dean’s voicemail could offer Sam a sense of relief when nothing else could. Hanging up the phone, he put the device back in his pocket before gathering his things once more. He stood slowly, eyes red and puffy, avoiding the waitress’ questioning gaze as he paid his bill.

 

It was going to be a long night. And Sam had a feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to get much sleep. Knew that every time he closed his hazel eyes that there would be a pair of piercing green ones, wet with tears, staring back at him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mary’s funeral was held on a Tuesday. However, despite that fact, there was a huge turnout. To be honest, Sam genuinely thought that the whole city of Tyler had attended his mother’s funeral. Not that he was surprised. Mary was such a beautiful person, inside and out. She'd had many friends, and she'd helped countless people. It made perfect sense that the citizens of Tyler would want to come out and pay their respects. What did surprise Sam, though, was Dean’s absence. His big brother had not only missed their mother’s funeral, but he hadn’t even had the decency to call Sam back and give him an explanation as to why.

 

Which shattered Sam’s heart. Why wasn’t he worth a five minute phone call? Even if Dean had given Sam a bullshit excuse. It would have been better than radio silence. Would have been better than leaving Sam alone to sit in front of Mary’s casket while John, the man he thought was made of stone, delivered a heartfelt eulogy which broke his heart that much more. It was like Dean had abandoned Sam all over again. And he could honestly say that this time, the pain he felt was so much worse.

 

It was like he was drowning. Only his life preserver, the one person who was always there to save him, was nowhere to be found. Without Dean, he was a wreck. He’d barely made it through the service, and when his mother’s coffin was finally lowered into the ground, Sam bolted. He'd had to get away from the noise and the people, the reality of it all.

 

That night, after Mary’s funeral, John had fallen asleep on the couch, bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. Sam had tried to sleep in his old bed, but he tossed and turned, memories of Dean haunting his dreams. He missed his big brother, but he was also infuriated with him. Not only for leaving him alone to deal with their grieving father but for what he’d done to Sam during their childhood. Looking back, he knew his big brother had purposely made Sam dependent on him. Introduced him to the highly addictive drug that was Dean Winchester, than left him strung out, craving more.  

 

Dean had coddled Sam, protected him from harm. Thus gaining Sam’s undying and everlasting trust. He’d encouraged Sam, made him believe that he was special. Which in turn made Sam fall in love with the older boy. And Dean had made Sam believe that he loved him back, tried to convince him that what they had wasn’t sick or wrong.

 

Sam knew better now. Hell, he’d known better than. He'd just been too weak, too desperate for Dean’s love and approval to stop his big brother from turning him into a monster like he was. And at the time, although he’d never admit it out loud, perhaps a part of Sam wanted to be corrupted. To have his brother’s love and undivided attention. For them to do whatever they pleased. Just Dean and him. Like it should be, always.

 

Letting out a defeated sigh, Sam got up from his bed quietly. He tiptoed down the hall to the bedroom Dean used to call his own, pushing the door open to take a quick look around. Sam didn’t know what he’d excepted to find. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, and Dean wasn’t just going to be lying on his bed, reading The Catcher in the Rye. He wasn’t going to look up at Sam with that devilishly handsome smile and ask him how his day was, or if he’d like to hang out. They weren’t going to lay side by side, and Dean wasn’t going to press gentle, innocent kisses to his cheeks, all the while whispering to him that he was perfect.

 

Sam felt a shiver run up his spine. And before he could stop himself, he was lying on back in Dean’s bed, eyes glued to the ceiling. He was so overwhelmed. He missed his mother, wished he could hate his father, and he couldn’t even begin to work out the emotions he felt regarding his big brother. Sam did not miss feeling like this. He missed Dean so bad it physically hurt sometimes, but he didn’t miss the confusion, the guilt, feeling like he was a freak.

 

Sam shut his eyes and prayed for sleep. His stomach was in knots, the sound of Dean’s voice echoing in his ears.

 

**“You want me, don’t you little brother?”**

**“…Dean…We can’t...It’s not right.”**

**“That’s not what I asked you, Sam.”**

**They were both naked in Dean’s bed, a beautiful blonde girl tied up and gaged between them. She was on her back, arms bound behind her tightly in an elbow tie. Dean had wrapped a separate rope around her torso, just above and below her breasts, pulling it tight so that the round, meaty flesh protruded outward. The remainder of the rope was looped around the back of her neck, fashioned as a harness to hold Dean’s craftsmanship in place.**

**Dean had asked Sam to watch while he fucked the blonde; suggested that Sam could either take care of himself or remove the gag and fuck her mouth. That had become a normal request of his big brother’s ever since he’d watched Sam lose his virginity.**

**Sam had agreed, of course. He could never say no to Dean. However, when Dean had gone down on the girl, fucking her with his tongue, causing her to scream in pleasure against her gag; Sam couldn’t stop himself from grabbing Dean by the back of the neck, pulling him up into a rough, demanding kiss. Sam couldn’t deny that he wanted Dean to make him scream like that. And he’d let himself get lost in the moment, even though he knew it was wrong.**

**“…I’m sorry, Dean…”**

**“Samuel. Answer my question.”**

**“Y-yes,” Sam whispered, avoiding eye contact with Dean as the girl between them began to fidget against her restraints.**

**“See? Now, was that so hard, baby boy?” Dean cooed, gently running his fingers through Sam’s long, shaggy hair, cocking his head to the side in confusion when his little brother started to cry. “Hey, what’s wrong, Sammy?”**

**“…I’m a freak, Dean.”**

**Sam yelped when Dean grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him forward so that their foreheads were pressed together. Dean nuzzled against his face; free hand wrapping around Sam’s leaking erection, causing him to whimper. He stroked Sam slowly, savoring the filthy little noises that were escaping the younger boy’s mouth.**

**“You are _perfect_ , baby boy. Don’t ever be ashamed of what, or who you want.” **

**The girl was writhing on the bed now. Muffled sounds of protest drowned out by her gag. Sam’s heart was threatening to beat out of his chest as he looked down at her, sympathetic expression on his face. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting any part of this. However, before he could ask Dean to let her go, his big brother picked her up, throwing the blonde over his shoulder.**

**“Dean, what are you doing?!” Sam asked in a frantic tone, body frozen with fear as he watched Dean roughly shove the girl into his closet before shutting the door.**

**“Shh, Sammy. It’s okay, baby. I’ve got plans for her later. But right now, I just want you. Just want my little brother.”**

Unable to stifle a moan, Sam slipped his right hand passed the elastic of his pajama pants; trembling fingers wrapping around his swollen cock. That had been the first time Dean fucked him. He’d only been fourteen, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. He remembered the way Dean had taken his time opening him up, stretched him nice and slow before pounding his ass unmercifully. He’d been rough, left scratches, bruises, and bite marks. And Sam had loved it. Despite how twisted up and wrong he’d felt afterwards.

 

Dean had whispered his name like a prayer. Acted like Sam was the only person who matter, and in that moment, he had been. He’d made Sam feel special, irreplaceable. Like Dean didn’t need anything but his little brother to keep him satisfied. Even though Sam knew that wasn’t true; knew that Dean had needs he could never fulfill.

 

Sam bit his bottom lip hard as he came. His stomach muscles were flexed; sweat dripping off every inch of his body. That familiar feeling of pleasure and shame crept into his mind as he worked himself through his orgasm, thoughts focused on his big brother.

 

“Oh God, _Dean_.”

 

Sam was spent; letting out a barely audible groan as he gingerly removed his hand from his pajama pants, chest heaving. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind wonder back to that day. In retrospect, Sam should have known Dean was going to hurt that girl. And he hated himself for not trying to stop him; for not even asking what Dean planned to do with her. Shit. He hadn’t even let the memory of her cross his mind in six whole years. Not until he was back in Dean’s room, where he couldn’t escape the shame of what he’d done.

 

Sam needed to get the hell out of Texas. He desperately needed to get away from the memory of his big brother; get away from the memory of the terrible person he once was. He needed to hide. From his past, and himself.

 

**********

 

It was a quarter till midnight when Sam arrived back at his apparent on Wednesday, and he was exhausted. Due to the fact that Tyler was such a small town, he’d been forced to take a bus to Dallas then fly out of Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport back to California. It had been a long, emotionally draining trip and now that he was home, all Sam wanted to do was crawl into bed. He shuffled through the living room on autopilot, making a beeline for his bedroom. It was dark, both of his roommates sound asleep; and Sam did his best not to make any noise as he cautiously maneuvered himself down the hallway.

 

When he finally reached his room, Sam opened his door quickly and slipped inside, not bothering to flip on the light as he sat his suitcase down at the foot of his bed. He toed off his shoes, pushing them forward with his right foot to sit next to his suitcase before removing his socks. And once they joined his shoes, Sam began to unbutton his shirt, suddenly letting out a loud yawn; eyes watering and blood shot from sleep deprivation. Picking up his pace, he slipped the long-sleeved flannel material off his shoulders, stopping abruptly when he felt a chill run up his spine.

 

Someone was watching him.

 

Sam let his shirt fall to the floor as he turned around slowly. In the corner of the room he could make out a tall, dark silhouette looming in the shadows. The blood in his veins ran cold; every instinct he had telling him to scream for help. Yet, Sam couldn’t make a sound. His mouth was dry, throat tight.

 

He should run. It was his best option. But Sam was a Winchester. And when it came to fight or flight, Winchesters always picked fight.

 

The intruder seemed to know what he was thinking because he lunged forward before Sam could mount an attack. Sam felt his breath hitch in his throat as the faceless figure tackled him onto the bed. They struggled against each other, fists flying wildly, connecting with jaws, eyes, and noses. Sam heard a practically gruesome crunch when the intruder’s fist landed squarely in his right eye, his vision immediately going black.

 

Letting out an exasperated grunt, Sam grabbed his attacker by the wrist, using all his body weight to flip himself over. The intruder seemed momentarily surprised, tensing under Sam before reaching up to collect a handful of his hair, pulling on it forcefully.

 

“You son of a bitch,” Sam hissed as he landed a punch to his attacker’s jaw.

 

In response, the man beneath him chuckled just before delivering two quick jabs to Sam’s ribs. He bucked his hips off the mattress, causing Sam to lose his balance, as he flipped them onto the floor with a loud thud; Sam landing on his back hard.

 

“I almost forgot how feisty you were, little brother.”

 

Sam stopped struggling, focusing his good eye on the man above him. Moonlight shown in through his window, the angle just right so that a silver ray fell across Dean’s face; his bright green eyes shimmering in the light. Sam was stunned, mouth falling open in shock as he stared up at his big brother disbelievingly.

 

“…Dean…”

 

His voice cracked, tears flooding his eyes before he could fight them off. In a flash, Dean’s mouth was on his, hot, wet, and demanding, kissing Sam as if his life depended on it. He returned the kiss, tongue and teeth clashing with his brother’s as he snaked his arms around Dean’s neck. Sam could taste the bitter, metallic tang of blood, but he wasn’t sure if it was his or Dean’s, or perhaps a combination of both?

 

He moaned into Dean’s mouth when the older man pulled his hair, goosebumps erupting across his skin. Sam could feel himself getting hard, body tingling with a sensation only his big brother could give him. And when Dean raked his fingernails down Sam bare chest, he had to resist the urge to scream his brother’s name; arching his hips up off the floor as he kissed Dean harder. He gasped when Dean’s right hand cupped his growing erection, gently massaging him through his jeans.

 

“Always such a dirty little slut for me, Sammy. So desperate for my cock. You want me, baby? Want your big brother to fuck you like the needy cockslut that you are?”

 

“Yes, oh fuck, Dean _please_.”

 

Sam moaned loudly when Dean’s grip tightened on his cock. It had been three long years since his big brother had been inside him, and he was truly desperate. Sure, he’d been with other people since Dean; Sam had even been in a long-term relationship that had lasted almost a year. However, he knew, deep inside, that it was all volatile. Sam knew that he’d just been going through the motions. Dean was the only one for him. The only one who could make Sam feel alive.

 

When he felt Dean unbutton his jeans, Sam found himself grabbing his brother’s wrist, preventing him from moving down to his zipper.

 

“Dean, turn on the light."

 

“…Sammy.”

 

“Please? _Please_ big brother, I want to see you.”

 

Sam wouldn’t have been surprised if Dean had ignored him. Thankfully however, he didn’t. And Sam could barely hold back a smile when he felt Dean push himself to his feet, his big brother fumbling around in the dark until he reached the light switch near the door. The sudden burst of brightness made Sam’s left eye spasm, and he squinted in order to help himself adjust.

 

“Ya happy now, Sammy?”

 

He was in the process of turning his head when he felt two strong hands hook underneath his armpits, lifting him up off the ground effortlessly. Dean spun him around, fingers combing through his disheveled hair as he looked up at Sam longingly.

 

 _Wow_. Dean was even more breathtaking than Sam remembered.

 

His short brown hair looked like he’d brushed it with a mixer, freckles scattered across his smooth, tanned skin like constellations in the night sky. His bright green eyes were hooded with lust, pupils blown wide. Dean’s lips were glossy with a mixture of blood and saliva, swollen from kissing and absolutely captivating. There was a cut at the corner of his left eye just below his eyebrow that was oozing blood down the side of his face, but he was wearing a smile that just wouldn’t quite.

 

Sam trailed his eyes downward over Dean’s body, giving him a thorough once over. His brother had put on about ten pounds of muscle since the last time he’d seen him. Dean’s shoulders were boarder, waist leaner. Thighs thick, tantalizing enough to take a bite out of. He was wearing a pair was tight fitting jeans which had a large rip in the right knee, and a white Henley that clung to his torso tight enough that Sam could see the hard outline of his stomach muscles beneath it. And if he hadn’t been so distracted by the large blood stain splattered across the front of Dean’s chest, Sam probably would have come on the spot just by looking at his brother.

 

“A-are you okay? Dean, what happened?” Sam asked nervously, cupping his big brother’s cheeks in his hands.

 

“Sammy, don’t. Please don’t ask me that.”

 

Dean was pulling down Sam’s zipper. He wanted so badly to argue, force Dean to tell him what had happened. But he knew he didn’t want to know the truth, so he let it go; kept his mouth shut and let Dean take control.

 

Sam smiled when Dean was unable to hold back a needy moan. He’d worked Sam’s jean down to his ankles to find that his little brother was wearing a pair of tight lacy red panties. His cock was pressed firmly against the sleek material, creating a large bulge, curly light brown pubic hair visible through the lace. Sam panties were soaked with pre-cum, the fabric slick as Dean palmed at his cock.

 

“Fuck, baby brother. You’re such a pretty little slut.”

 

“Dee, please.”

 

Dean’s palm collided with Sam’s right cheek before he could even think about dodging the blow. He whimpered when Dean roughly shoved him down onto the bed, yanking his jeans off so that Sam was wearing nothing but his panties. Dean straddled his hips, grabbing his wrists to pin them above his head. Sam struggled, helpless against his brother’s advances as Dean thrust his hips, grinding their erections together.

 

“Wow, Sammy. Is a hand on your dick really all it takes for you to start begging like bitch in heat? You that desperate for me or do you beg that pretty for everyone?”

 

His brother’s voice was rough, animalistic, and possessive. Dean’s fingers dug into his skin, long, purple bruise forming on Sam’s writs as the older man continued to dry hump him; Sam’s cock screaming for relief. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as he struggled to break free of Dean’s hold; stomach muscles clenched, arms arching.

 

“No, Dean, just for you. Only beg for you.”

 

It was a lie. Sam, by nature, was submissive in the bedroom. However, it was true that Dean was the only person with the ability to bring that side out of him so quickly.

 

A sadistic smile spread across his big brother’s lips before he released one of Sam’s wrists in order to deliver another slap to his face. Sam bit back a moan, his whole body tensing when the same hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tightly.

 

“Now, now Sammy. Do you know what happens to bad boys who lie?”

 

Dean’s grip tighten, causing Sam to gasp. He clawed at his brother’s skin, drawing blood as he raked his fingernails over Dean’s flexed forearm. Sam felt lightheaded, the vision in his good eye starting to become hazy. His brother had gone still, erection pressed firmly against Sam’s as he looked down at the younger man with a heated gaze.

 

“Th-they ge-t pun-ished.”

 

Sam had almost lost consciousness when Dean finally let go of his throat. He took a deep, ragged breath, coughing a couple of times as his brother rolled off of him, positioning himself next to Sam on his knees.

 

“Turn over and put both of your hands on the headboard.”

 

It wasn’t a request, and Sam knew better than to disobey a direct order from Dean. Turning over quickly, he wrapped his fingers around the middle bar of three that made up his headboard. He rocked himself up onto his knees, body bent slightly; ass presented to Dean.

 

He felt his brother’s weight shift, but he couldn’t see what he was doing because his right eye was swollen shut. Suddenly, Dean was wrapping his blood stained Henley around Sam’s wrists, tying a perfect clove hitch with the sleeves. He tugged at the knot, making sure it would hold before he got up from the bed to remove the rest of his clothes; leaving Sam helpless and trembling, cock so hard he thought he might explode.

 

“Dean, please, I’m sorry, I’ll be good…please.”

 

Sam could hear Dean rustling around behind him, the sound of a zipper reaching his ears. It seemed as though Dean was rummaging though his backpack that was sitting on the floor near his dresser on the left side of the room. He turned his head just in time to see his brother, now completely naked, retrieve a twelve inch ruler from the bag. Sam's toes curled when Dean ran his fingers up the length of the ruler, hungry green eyes fixed on the younger man.

 

“Head forward. If you move or make a sound, I’ll start over,” Dean warned as he sauntered back over to the bed, positioning himself behind Sam.

 

Sam faced the wall in front of him once more, fingers gripping the metal bar of his headboard so tight his knuckles were white. Dean slowly pulled down his panties, exposing his ass; letting the lacy material bunch up around his muscles thighs. Sam jolted forward when he felt Dean’s right palm slide down his bare ass cheek, rubbing the flesh soothingly. He bit his bottom lip, lowered his head when Dean removed his hand and braced himself.

 

Dean waited a few seconds, letting Sam’s anticipation build up before delivering the first blow with the ruler. When the wood hit his ass, it made a loud cracking sound that echoed through the room, followed by a strangled moan from Sam. He could feel a welt forming, skin hot and throbbing as Dean brought the ruler down against his other ass cheek; his brother switching back and forth, creating a slow, agonizing rhythm.

 

“Dean, _pl-ease_.”

 

Sam’s ass was bright red and throbbing, covered in long, square shaped welts. He’d lost count of how many times Dean had spanked him, but he was pretty sure it was in the high thirties. Sam’s body was shaking, his muscles strained, cock in desperate need of attention.

 

“I told you to keep your mouth shut, whore.”

 

His brother stayed true to his word, punishing Sam all over again for speaking. And by the time Dean was done, the younger man’s ass was sore and bruised, several large welts running horizontal to one another on each cheek.

 

Sam felt a hot tear glide over his cheek, bit his lip to hold back a sob. His whole body ached. And he was so desperate to come, he would have done anything at that point.

 

“Dee, I need you _so_ bad.”

 

His voice was strained, and it was obvious that he was crying. Sam let out a ragged breath when he felt Dean’s hands on his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The older man worked his thumbs against the curved of Sam’s neck, causing him to arch his back. A feeling a pleasure began to slowly seep back into his veins as Dean drug his fingernails done his spine, stopping to rest his palms against his battered ass cheeks.

 

“Tell me what you want, baby boy.”

 

Sam was barely able to stop himself from shouting out in pleasure when Dean gripped his ass cheeks tightly, spreading them wide to expose his hole. And when he felt his brother’s tongue flick across the tight ring of muscle, Sam had to bite down on his left bicep to keep from waking up the entire apparent complex with his screams. Dean’s tongue was warm against his skin as he licked Sam’s hole, fucking him open slowly; driving the younger man wild.

 

“I want you. Fuck me, please.”

 

Dean smacked Sam’s right ass cheek with his hand, causing him to yelp. He dipped his tongue inside him, circling it around. Sam pushed back against Dean, panting heavily as his brother continued to eat him out like a starving man who'd just been served a five course meal.

And then suddenly, Dean stopped. Sam whimpered, craning his neck to see his brother leaning back on his heels, wicked grin on his face.

 

“Hmm, I don’t know, Sammy. Why should I fuck such a naughty whore like you? I’m sure you aren’t that desperate for it, am I right? Filthy little cockslut, you probably spend more time on your back than a hooker. I’m sure you could find someone else to give you what you want.”

 

“No! Dean, please! I want _you_. No one else can make me come like you can. Oh God, please, please. Even when I’m with somebody else, you’re the only one I can think about, need your cock inside me, big brother, please.”

 

Sam moaned when he felt Dean’s hands slide up his sides, caressing his skin. He pressed soft kisses down the younger man’s spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Dean’s breath was hot against his skin as he returned his mouth to Sam’s tight, wet hole, giving it a few slow, teasing licks before sitting back to suck on his index, middle, and ring fingers. And once Dean was satisfied that he’d gotten them wet enough, he roughly shoved his index finger inside Sam, his brother gritting out a string of curses as he pushed back against him.

 

“I’m the only one who knows _exactly_ what you need, isn’t that right, Sammy? You’re only truly satisfied when you’ve got your big brother’s cock buried deep inside this tight little ass, huh? No matter who you’re with, where you go, what you do, you’ll **always** be mine, baby boy.”

 

Dean added a second finger to Sam’s hole, pumping in and out of him at a maddeningly slow pace. He circled his fingers, working at the tight ring of muscle as he searched for Sam’s sweet spot. The process was painful, and Dean had hardly used enough spit to get him slick but when his brother found his prostate, gently massaging the tiny bundle of nerves with his fingertips, the pleasure was well worth the pain. Sam arched his back, cock profusely leaking pre-cum as Dean continued to nail his prostate, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

 

“Who do you belong to, Sam?” Dean asked harshly, slipping a third finger inside him. “Who owns you? Who is the one person you’d do anything for?”

 

“You! You own me, Dean. I’d do anything for you, anything you wanted.”

 

Sam whimpered when Dean abruptly removed his fingers. He was exhausted, body on the verge of shutting down. Every muscle he had sore and screaming for relief.

 

“I know you would, Sammy, because you’re my boy. And you’re perfect.”

 

Dean was inside Sam with one quick snap of his hips, buried as deep as he could go. His right hand tangled in Sam’s hair as he pulled out nearly all the way before slamming back into the younger man, both of them desperately trying to remain quiet.

 

“Oh fuck, Dee. Harder.”

 

His brother’s grip on his hair tightened, yanking his head back as he began to pound into Sam. Dean used his free hand to stroke the younger man’s painfully hard cock; Sam whispering his brother’s name over and over again as Dean fucked him with reckless abandon. Dean’s hips smacked against Sam’s ass hard, the sound of skin hitting skin echoing through the otherwise silent room. They were both breathing heavily, drenched in sweat and going crazy with need.

 

“Shit, Sammy, you’re so good for me, my good boy.”

 

And that was all it took. Just a little bit of praise from his big brother and Sam was lost. Feeling his stomach muscles clench, Sam bit his bottom lip, pleasure building up in his gut. His skin was on fire, body tingling as he felt Dean’s mouth against his shoulder, trailing kisses up to his neck.

 

“Come for me, baby.”

 

Dean’s voice was low, demanding, better than any porno Sam had ever watched. And when his brother sank his teeth into his jugular, bruising the sensitive flesh, Sam came harder than he had in years; spilling long, warm ropes of cum all over Dean’s hand, making a mess of the sheets below him.

 

“Oh, Dean, _yes_.” Sam moaned as his brother worked through his orgasm, milking him dry.

 

“So perfect, Sammy.”

 

The older man continued to thrust his hips, placing both hands at Sam’s side for leverage as he fucked him violently. Sam closed his eyes, lips pressed together tightly in a thin line, trying with all his might not to scream. He could feel bruises forming on his skin as Dean bucked his hips a couple more time before filling Sam’s ass full with come, moaning the younger man’s name.

 

“Mm, fuck, feels so good, Dee.”

 

Sam slumped forward, wincing slightly when he felt Dean pull out of him. He was completely and utterly boneless, his brain almost too foggy to notice that his brother had untied his wrists and was now gently laying him down on the mattress. However, when Dean went to roll off the bed, Sam had enough wherewithal to grab him by the arm, pulling him back so that he could lay his head on the older man’s chest. He wrapped his arm around Dean’s waist, nuzzling against his body, savoring the warm, comforting feeling the action provided.

 

“I missed you, Dee.”

 

“Missed you too, Sammy.”

 

“…Wh-why didn’t you come to mom’s funeral? Do you have any idea what it was like to go through that alone? I needed you…”

 

Sam was crying again, anger bubbling up in his chest. Why did he let Dean do this to him? He knew his brother was a user, a liar, yet he worshiped the man. Sam needed Dean. And he absolutely hated it.

 

“Hey, don’t get mad at me…don’t you do that. I- I couldn’t go, Sammy. I just couldn’t. I couldn’t watch them put my mother in the ground…”

 

Dean was holding him, forehead pressed against his as Sam cried. It was the first time since Mary had passed away that Sam had felt the gravity of her death so deeply. In Dean’s arms he could finally let himself feel the loss, knew he was safe to expose himself emotionally.

 

“…I’m sorry you had to go through that alone baby boy, but I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

 

That shouldn’t have been soothing to Sam, but it was.

 

He knew that he shouldn’t get comfortable. After all, his brother was such a free spirit, bound to disappear just as swiftly as he’d shown up, but Sam had a bad habit of living in the moment. And right now, he was safe and satisfied, wrapped in the arms of the person he loved most. Nothing else mattered.

 

“Dee, please promise me that you’ll be here when I wake up?”

 

Sam was half asleep, struggling to maintain consciousness in order to hear his brother’s reply. He felt Dean shift underneath him, sighed contently when his brother began to gently stroke his hair.

 

“I promise, Sammy. I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

 

“…Never want you to say goodbye…”

 

He hadn’t even realized what he’d said before sleep claimed him. And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Sam slept soundly, the nightmares that usually plagued him kept at bay by Dean’s warm embrace.


	3. Chapter 3

Early Thursday morning, Sam was startled awake by the sound of someone knocking loudly on the front door of his apartment. He rolled over onto his back, blinking the eye that would cooperate several times in a desperate attempt to unclutter his sleep addled brain. His whole body was sore, fresh bruises littered across his fair skin; the pain a bittersweet reminder that Sam hadn’t just been dreaming. Dean had shown up the night before. He’d fucked Sam, claimed him; left evidence of his ownership on the younger man’s flesh.

 

Absentmindedly, Sam reached his left arm out, heart sinking when his palm connected with the cool surface of his mattress. He sat up, leaning on his elbow, to examine the spot beside him that Dean had once occupied. However, before he had time to reach any irrational conclusions, his bedroom door flew open, causing him to jump.

 

“Dude!”

 

It was Brady, and he looked petrified. His short dark brown hair was a mess, pajamas wrinkled and sloppy like he’d just woken up. He gave Sam a quick once over, eyes going wide with shock when he saw the large raised bite mark on his neck that was now a nasty shade of purple. Sam could only imagine what Brady must have been thinking, considering he looked as though he’d just gone twelve rounds with a brick and lost.

 

“What the hell happened to you? Wait, no, scratch that, Holyfield. You can tell me about your prize fight later. Right now, I’m more concerned as to why the cops are here asking for you.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Yeah, dude, the five-o is at the door looking for your ass. C’mon!”

 

Sam didn’t get a chance to ask any more questions before his roommate was gone, leaving him alone in his bedroom once more. And with his mind racing, Sam got out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of grey sweatpants before hastily heading to the living room.

 

Reaching his destination in record breaking time, Sam’s skin began to crawl when he saw two police officers waiting for him at the front door. Brady had disappeared, and Sam could only assume he’d either gone back to his room or was hiding in the kitchen. Not that he could blame his roommate.

 

“Are you Sam Winchester?”

 

Sam had just stopped in the arch of the door when the shorter of the two men addressed him. The officer’s badge read Trenton, icy blue eyes regarding Sam as if he were some sort of wild animal that may attack at any time. His partner, Officer Wilson, on the other hand, appeared rather indifferent; arms folded across his broad chest like he was bored.

 

“Yes…What’s this about?”

 

“We’re looking for Dean Winchester, your brother. Have you been in contact with him recently, Mr. Winchester?” Officer Trenton asked, trailing his eyes over Sam’s battered body.

 

Sam felt the color drain from his face. A million terrible thoughts came rushing into his mind, all of them centered on memories of his brother’s blood stained Hanley. What the hell was going on? What had his brother done? Sam’s palms began to sweat as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, desperately trying to maintain his composure.  

 

“Why are you looking for Dean?”

 

“He’s a suspect in an ongoing missing person’s case that my partner and I are working. Witnesses say that your brother was the last person seen with Natalie Collins before she disappeared.”

 

“…He’s a suspect? That’s absurd. My brother wouldn’t hurt an innocent woman.”

 

Sam hoped that he’d sounded convincing because he certainly hadn’t fooled himself. It made him psychically ill to think that Dean could harm a defenseless woman, but he knew, deep in his heart, that it was true. Somehow, he’d always known that his brother was capable of cruel, unspeakable actions; despite Dean’s best efforts to keep his depravity from Sam.

 

“That may be true, Mr. Winchester, but we still need to ask your brother some questions.”

 

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I haven’t seen Dean in three year…I didn’t even know he was in California.” Sam lied, avoiding eye contact with the two officers.

 

He could feel sweat rolling down his forehead, body trembling ever so slightly.

 

“…I see…Mr. Winchester, would you mind if my partner and I had a look around the premises?” Officer Wilson chimed in as he slowly unfolded his arms.

 

“Do you have a warrant or probable cause?”

 

Officer Trenton chuckled at Sam’s defiance; the shorter man staring at him unwaveringly with a cold, calculating stare that made his blood run cold.

 

“Your Stanford education is paying off, boy.” Officer Trenton spat, earning an eye roll from his partner.

 

“What can I say? I love the law. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for class.”

 

Sam was in the process of shutting the front door in Officer Trenton’s face when Officer Wilson placed his palm flat against the wooden structure, holding it open without effort. Narrowing his eyes, Sam looked up at the officer before raising an eyebrow questioningly.

 

“If you hear from your brother be sure to give us a call.”

 

It was clear that Officer Wilson didn’t believe that Sam was oblivious. Truthfully, a blind person could have seen that he knew Sam was lying. However, that didn’t stop him from feigning offense.

 

“Why of course, Officer,” Sam said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

 

And when Officer Wilson finally removed his hand, he slammed the door with excessive force before marching back to his room in a huff.

 

This was **not** good. Sam had to get ahold of Dean; had to let his brother know that those two asshole cops were after him. He’d just gotten his brother back, and the thought of Dean being arrested, being charged with crimes too vulgar for Sam to even contemplate, made his stomach turn.

 

Once Sam was back in his room, door locked behind him, he let out a frustrated sigh. How the hell was he going to let Dean know the police were on to him? His brother never answered his phone, and he had no idea where Dean was staying; or if he was even in California anymore.

 

A sharp pain shot through his heart at the thought of his brother sneaking off in the middle of the night after promising Sam he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye. Honestly, Sam would never understand why he was still so willing to take Dean at his word; especially after years of lies and broken promises from his big brother.

 

However, before he had time to contemplate his blind loyalty any further, Sam was shaken from his troublesome thoughts when he heard the bathroom door open. His mouth fell open in shock when he saw Dean emerge from the small room, a large white towel wrapped securely around his waist. Steam swirled around the older man as Sam and he made eye contact, a sly smile spreading across Dean’s face at the sight of his little brother.

 

Dean’s hair was damp, beads of water rolling down his toned chest. He smelled like a delicious mixture of soap and Sam’s cologne; and even though Sam knew it was wildly inappropriate, he was ridiculously turned on. Not that he was surprised. Sam always felt that way around Dean. Wanton, desperate. Like he was ravenous but could never get his fill. He **needed** Dean; more than air, more than water. He wanted to consume him. And the feeling both excited and terrified Sam.

 

“Heya Sammy.”

 

Dean’s voice was like silk; smooth, comforting, drawing Sam in. It was pathetic actually, if he Sam was being honest with himself. How was it possible for his brother to get under his skin so easily? Ever since they were kids, he’d been putty in Dean’s hands. It was infuriating.

 

Dean’s smile widened, causing Sam’s blood pressure to skyrocket. Before he could stop himself, Sam had marched over to his older brother, shoving him roughly against the nearest wall. His hands wrapped around Dean’s neck, piercing green eyes fixed on him, narrowed in a silent challenge. The older man didn’t struggle when Sam’s grip tightened. Their bodies were pressed together firmly, both panting, staring each other down.

 

“What did you do, Dean? Who the hell is Natalie Collins?”

 

“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about, Sammy,” Dean gasped, hands coming up to squeeze his little brother’s hips.

 

Sam knew Dean wasn’t telling him the truth. He knew his big brother better than anyone, and he **knew** the older man’s tells. Like the way Dean got fidgety when he was lying. Or how he couldn’t look Sam directly in the eyes.

 

Overcome with anger, Sam drew back his right hand, punching Dean square in the jaw.

 

“Why are you lying to me?! To _me_! Of all people!”

 

Sam’s punch stunned Dean momentarily, however, when the older man regain his composure, he was livid. In a fit of rage, Dean kicked Sam in the stomach, sending the younger man to his knees. He grabbed a handful of Sam’s hair, yanking his head back so they were looking each other in the eyes. Dean’s expression was murderous, sending a chill up Sam’s spine. His big brother had never looked at him like that before.

 

“I’m tryin’ to keep you safe, Samuel.”

 

“How is lying to me keeping me safe?” Sam gritted out, chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

 

“The less details you know the better. I don’t want you gettin’ in trouble tryin’ to protect me.”

 

Sam felt the hot sting of tears begin to well in his eyes. Without thinking he reached up to place his hands on Dean’s hips. He tried to lean forward, wanted to nuzzle his face against his brother’s stomach but Dean wouldn’t let him. Instead the older man’s grip on his hair tightened, causing him to whimper in pain. His brother was being so cold, distant. Nothing like the man he’d fallen in love with. This wasn’t _his_ Dean. This was a different side of his brother. The dark side. The monster Sam feared more than anything.

 

“Dee…the blood on your shirt…did…did you hurt that girl?”

 

Dean’s nostrils flared in anger at Sam’s question. However, Sam wasn’t sure if his brother’s response was because he’d had the nerve to ask such a horrible question or because he was _finally_ admitting that he believed Dean was capable of something so vile. Either way, his boldness earned him a slap across the face from Dean so hard that it made him dizzy. His cheek throbbed as he tried not to cry, looking up at his brother with a wounded expression. In less than a heartbeat, Dean’s fingers were securely tangled in his messy hair, threatening to pull the follicles out by the roots.

 

“You get off on torturing me, Sammy? You gonna force me to confess even though you clearly already know the answer?”

 

A wave of nausea hit Sam like a freight train. He felt cold, almost numb, but he was sweating profusely. His whole body was trembling as he looked up at Dean, realization taking hold. So it was true. All his suspicions, his shameful, dark thoughts.

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. What could he say? That he’d always known? That he was scared? No. There was no use. 

 

“…Do you hate me, little brother?”

 

Dean was running his fingers through Sam’s hair, his expression softening. And in that moment, Sam could honestly say he _wanted_ to hate his brother. He wanted to hate him so bad he could taste it.

 

“No, Dee. Never. I could **never** hate you.”

 

“Sammy, you might have a slight understanding of what’s going on…but you have **_NO_** idea what I’ve done…what I’m capable of… You _should_ hate me.”

 

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, bright red left cheek pressed firmly against his toned stomach. He knew his brother was right. He should have felt hatred toward Dean, should have been disgusted at the very thought of him being able to harm an innocent woman. Yet, he didn’t. Sam knew a part of him must have been just as fucked up as his big brother because even after Dean’s roundabout confession, he still only felt love and admiration for the older man.

 

He couldn’t condemn his brother. None of this could be Dean’s fault. He couldn’t help the way he was. It was just the way he was born. And lord knew his brother had tried his damnedest to fight it. Sam had seen that even when all of the facts weren’t clear.

 

_Damn it, Sam. Stop making excuses for your brother._

Suddenly, John’s voice echoed like a loud crack of thunder through Sam’s mind. Ever since they were young Sam had always found a way to twist the situation, take the blame off of Dean; no matter how guilty his brother was. And now that they were grown, nothing had changed. Sam was still ready and willing to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, even if he didn’t deserve it.

 

“Well, I don’t.”

 

“You would if you knew.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t. Tell me, and I’ll prove it,” Sam challenged between feather light kisses to Dean’s stomach as he removed the towel from his waist, letting it drop to the floor.

 

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, baby boy…You can’t…”

 

Sam pressed his forehead against Dean’s abdomen, fingers digging into the older man’s flesh. Dean always treated Sam like he was special. Like Sam was better than him. Of course Sam couldn’t know what he was asking for. That would mean he was just as sick, just as twisted as his older brother. And Dean’s innocent, loving little Sammy couldn’t be tainted like that.

 

He was though. And although it was true that Sam wasn’t 100% sure what he was asking for, he knew he wanted Dean to be completely honest with him. No matter how gruesome the details were. He knew he’d love Dean regardless.

 

“I want to know, Dean. I want to understand.”

 

“…Fuck, baby…I…I don’t think I can explain it.”

 

Sam could hear the conflict in Dean’s voice. The struggle between his self-righteous, protective big brother and the evil, destructive monster that possessed him in his weakest moments. He could feel Dean’s pain, empathized with him deeply. Sam knew all too well that his brother wrestled with guilt and self-worthlessness. And he could only imagine what this was doing to him. It was obvious that Dean already felt responsible for corrupting Sam, both morally and sexually, but this; this was taking it to a whole new level. If they crossed this line, there was no going back.

 

Sam knew that if he couldn’t handle what Dean had to say, his brother would be devastated. He’d seen Dean punish himself, seen John add to that punishment; wondered how Dean hadn’t broken under the pressure. And it tore him up inside to see his big brother so divided. Broke his heart to know that Dean’s hesitance wasn’t because he was ashamed of being a monster, but because he was terrified of losing Sam as a result.

 

“Then what if you showed me?”

 

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat, bright green eyes burning with lust. He remained silent, letting Sam pepper kisses around his belly button. Sam slid his right hand downward to Dean’s groin, fingernails gently scraping across his brother’s exposed skin, creating goosebumps. He ran his fingers through Dean’s pubic hair teasingly, taking note that his brother was half hard, despite the stressful situation.  

 

“You gotta be sure about this, little brother.”

 

Sam **wasn’t** sure. He’d never been so unsure about anything in his entire life. But he was committed. He wanted to do this for Dean. And he knew if he could fully accept his big brother for who and what he was, they could be together. Dean wouldn’t disappear for years at a time; he wouldn’t hide himself from Sam for fear of being rejected. Sam could have Dean, and Dean could have what he needed as well.

 

“I’m sure, Dean. I want you to show me. Make me understand.”

 

“Alright, baby boy. Tonight. I’ll show you tonight.”

 

Wow. That had been easier than Sam had anticipated. Although, he couldn’t say he was really that surprised Dean had given in so quickly either. It was a double edged sword. He knew his brother was torn between telling him everything and keeping him in the dark. And Sam knew that after years of hiding his true nature, Dean was probably tired of running. This was Dean taking a stand, and Sam couldn’t have been more proud, despite how utterly terrified he felt.

 

Suddenly, Dean leaned forward, attempting to help Sam to his feet. However, he stopped abruptly when the younger man remained where he was, smiling up at him coyly. Sam pushed Dean back against the wall with his left hand, warm palm flat against his brother’s stomach. He was mortified; body trembling at the thought of what Dean had in store for him that evening but he knew a surefire way to calm his nerves. At least for the time being.

 

“Want you to fuck my mouth, Dee, please?”

 

“You act like a mouthy little brat all morning and now you want a reward?”

 

“Please, big brother? _Please_?”

 

Sam quickly moved his hands to the tops of Dean’s thighs. He was careful to stay still, waiting patiently for his brother’s consent and instruction. He knew what to do. If he behaved and was good, Dean would give him what he wanted.

 

“Such a filthy little slut,” Dean chuckled, running his thumb along Sam’s bottom lip. “Only good for me when you want my cock.”

 

“Dee, that’s not true!”

 

Dean had meant it as a joke, but the statement affected Sam more than it should have. It was probably because Sam had spent his whole life trying to be good for Dean; to do want his big brother asked without question or hesitation.

 

“Hey, I know, baby. I was just playin’ with ya. You’re my good boy. Now, open that pretty little mouth of yours and I’ll give you what you want.”

 

Sam complied without a second thought, moaning when Dean gently guided his swollen cock into his mouth using his right hand. Dean slowly bucked his hips a couple of times, hands finding their way to Sam’s hair once more. Sam relaxed his throat, fingernails leaving marks on Dean’s skin as his brother picked up his pace, soft, breathy moans escaping his lips as he fucked the younger man’s mouth.

 

“Fuck, baby boy, that’s it,” Dean panted, eyes hood with lust as he stared down at Sam. “So perfect.”

 

Humming in response, Sam rocked forward, taking Dean as far as he could go. He heard his brother let out a string of curses, felt his grip tighten on his hair. Dean’s thrusts become more brutal, tears welling in Sam’s eyes as he tried not to gag. He was painfully hard; his whole body buzzing with a strange mixture of pain and pleasure. Truthfully, Sam didn’t understand how he could enjoy this. Dean was rough, using him. And it hurt. Yet, somehow, that was the whole point. Sam liked it rough, wanted Dean to use him; **needed** it to hurt. He couldn’t understand why, and probably never would, but he’d always felt that way.

 

“You like that, slut?”

 

Sam hadn’t realized he was making such filthy noises until Dean’s voice brought him back to reality. His brother had slipped out of his mouth, and was now looking down at him heatedly. Dean lightly brushed the head of his cock along Sam’s parted lips. Instructively, Sam let his tongue dart out of his mouth, massaging it against the tip of his brother’s leaking erection. He could taste the salty tang of pre-cum, letting out a wanton sound when he felt Dean’s hands settle on both sides of his neck. The older man tenderly rubbed the hollow of his throat with his thumbs, sending a shiver up Sam’s spine. He looked up at Dean longingly, chin slick with spit, hazel eyes glossy with tears.

 

Sam had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted his big brother.  It was both the most amazing/heart-wrenching feeling he’d ever experienced. And he knew, despite his best efforts to hide it, that his need for Dean was blatant. His love for Dean was all consuming. Ever since they were kids he’d just wanted to be by his brother’s side. Whether it was sharing a bed, clothes, toys, food, or personal space.

 

Even when Sam had gotten “too old” as John put it, to share those types of things with his brother, he’d still wanted to. His need to be near Dean had always been stronger than his need of self-preservation. That was evident in the fact that Sam had chosen to suffer through years of ridicule and abuse from not only his father, but the kids at his school because he couldn’t just leave Dean alone.

 

Sam had known from the very beginning there was something wrong with him. But he wasn’t strong enough to fix it. Not when staying broken meant feeling that unbelievable rush of energy and joy that he got from being around his big brother.

 

“Answer me, Samuel.” Dean ordered, grip tightening on the younger man’s neck.

 

“Yes, God, yes.” Sam moaned in response, voice hoarse from Dean’s brutal assault on his throat.

 

“Mm, I know you do, whore. Bet you’d like it even more if I came all over this gorgeous face of yours. Wouldn’t ya, Sammy?”

 

“Fuck, Dee, please!”

 

Sam was on the verge of losing it. His cock was throbbing, sweatpants soaked through with pre-cum. His could see long, dark blue bruise forming on Dean’s thighs from his grip, knuckles white.

 

“If you want it, baby, take it. Be a good boy and make your big brother come.”

 

Whimpering, Sam forced himself to remove his right hand from Dean’s thigh. He wrapped it around his brother’s erection, earning an animalistic growl from Dean when he began to stroke the older man slowly. Sam leaned down, tilting his head back in order to position the head of his brother’s cock over his mouth. With his free hand, he cupped Dean’s balls, gently running his thumb over the sensitive skin. Sam smiled when the action resulted in his brother whispering his name, goosebumps visible on Dean’s tanned, freckled skin.

 

“Come for me, Dee. Want you to come all over me, show me who I belong to.”

 

“ _Sammy_.”

 

Dean’s eyes were shut, bottom lip pinched between his teeth as he came hard with a shudder. He arched his back, fingernails digging into Sam’s neck as the younger man worked him through his orgasm, long, warm ropes of cum splashing across his lip, dripping down his chin.

 

“Jesus, Dean. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 

The words slipped out of Sam’s mouth before he could stop himself. Looking up timidly, he met Dean’s eyes, bright green irises stormy with lust and a hint of malice. Sam knew he shouldn’t have referred to his brother as beautiful; beauty was weakness, a physical feature that made others underestimate a person. His brother had fallen victim to this stereotype before. Dean had been mistaken as weak, docile, because of his looks. Bullies at school had thought they could take advantage of him because he had delicate features. But boy, were they wrong. Worst of all though, was their father. John had teased Dean unmercifully for being a “pretty boy.” He’d made fun of him for having “cock sucking lips”; and had even said that sucking cock was all his son was good for as he’d beaten Dean bloody.

 

“Stand up.”

 

“…Dee…”

 

Sam let out an involuntary whimper when Dean smacked him across his left cheek. And without further argument, he got up as quickly as he could to stand in front of his brother. He could feel shame and embarrassment bubbling up in his chest as he ducked his head, hazel eyes glued to the carpeted floor.

 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

 

“Dean, please…I’m sorry…”

 

“When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

 

Absentmindedly, Sam licked his lips; the strong musky taste of his brother’s come dancing on his tongue. He could feel saliva slowly dripping down his chin to his chest, heart racing as he contemplated his answer. Sam didn’t want to lie; yet, he was terrified of admitting that he did truly think Dean was beautiful.

 

“…Y-es, I-I do…”

 

“Take off your sweats.”

 

Daring to lift his head, Sam watched in confusion as Dean walked over to the foot of his bed and sat down. His big brother raised an eyebrow in an impatient manner, which immediately made Sam drop his pants. And once he had stepped out of the material, he turned to Dean, obediently awaiting further instruction.

 

“Come lay across my lap.”

 

A shiver ran up Sam’s spine as he darted forward, clumsily positioning himself across Dean’s lap. His cock was strained, slick with pre-cum; pressed firmly against his brother’s right thigh, driving him crazy with need. He took slow, calming breaths, resting his forehead against the mattress; hands instinctively griping the blanket for support.

 

“Count them.”

 

His brother’s voice was low, calculating, the sound enough to make Sam’s stomach clench in fear. He could feel Dean’s palm, warm and calloused, flat against his right ass cheek, caressing the smooth flesh.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Dean’s first blow didn’t hurt, per say, mostly just scared Sam. And that was why he started to cry. Or at least that was the lie he told himself. He tried to keep his voice steady as he counted; regardless of the fact that the more Dean hit him, the more force his brother put behind his swats.

 

It was strange, being spanked as a punishment rather than an attempt to achieve sexual gratification. And Sam hated that even though he felt embarrassed and regretted what he’d said, he was still turned on by Dean’s actions. What he hated most of all though, was that Dean was angry with him.

 

“Tw-enty…Dean, please…I’m sorry.”

 

Sam’s ass was throbbing, and he knew it had to be covered in large, red handprints. He wriggle uncomfortably in Dean’s lap, a joint of pleasure streaking through his body every time his erection brushed against the inside of his brother’s thigh. His cheeks were stained with tears; heart pounding so hard he thought it might explode.

 

“What are you sorry for, Samuel?” Dean asked in a cold tone, delivering a smack to Sam’s right ass cheek, then his left.

 

“Twenty-two,” Sam gasped, fighting to hold himself together. “…I’m sorry for calling you beautiful. I know you view the term as an insult but I promise, I didn’t mean it as such.”

 

Sam was legitimately surprised when Dean’s sharp smacks turned to gentle caresses. He let out a broken sob as his brother began to whisper to him soothingly while he rubbed the younger man’s raw, heated skin.

 

“Shh, easy baby boy. C’mon, sit up for me.”

 

Dean pulled him up, Sam doing some awkward maneuvering until he was straddling his brother’s hips, facing him. He instinctively wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, biting his bottom lip to hold back a whimper when the older man began to wipe away his tears. 

 

“I’m sorry, Dee.”

 

“I know, Sammy…Just, don’t call me that again, okay? I don’t ever want to hear that…not from you.”

 

“You’re not weak, big brother…You’re not…You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

Sam was babbling when Dean pulled him into a rough, possessive kiss. He tangled his fingers in the younger man’s hair; grip tight enough to make him groan. Sam opened his mouth, giving Dean better access, their tongues fighting for dominance as the kiss became more aggressive.

 

Suddenly, Dean flipped Sam onto his back, holding him down by his biceps. He could feel his skin bruising as his brother began to trail kisses down his jawline to his neck; nipping and sucking at the sensitive, already bruised, skin. Sam focused his willpower, making sure not to scream when Dean moved down to his chest, sinking his teeth into his right pec.

 

“So perfect for me, baby. You always know what to say…you keep me calm, just like she did,” Dean whispered, breath warm against Sam’s skin, creating goosebumps.

 

“…Mom was better…She never riled you up like I do.”

 

Sam’s cheeks were flushed. He turned his head, hot tears blurring his vision once more. He could feel Dean’s hands caressing his sides but his brother’s gentle touch wasn’t enough to subdue his shame. Mary would have never upset Dean like that. When his big brother was in their mother’s presence he was normal, happy. She could tame the monster inside Dean, and it destroyed Sam that he couldn’t; that he not only couldn’t contain the monster but he provoked it.

 

“Hey, you keep me on my toes, baby boy. You always have, and I’m grateful for that. You’re my rock, Sammy. You and mom. And now that she’s gone, I need you more than ever.”

 

Dean positioned himself to straddle Sam’s hips, both palms flat against the bed on either side of his head as the older man looked down at him. Sam took a deep breath, forcing himself to make eye contact with his brother; those bright green eyes reflecting nothing but pain and need.

 

“I’m here, Dee. You know I’ll never leave you,” Sam promised as he cupped Dean’s cheek in his hand.

 

“…You resent me, don’t you? For leaving.”

 

Sam’s mouth fell open in shock. He always knew Dean was more perceptive than he’d let on growing up, but he had no idea that his big brother knew just how bitter he felt.

 

“I don’t resent you…I honestly don’t think I’m capable of that. I just…we’re a team, Dee, and when you left I felt abandoned. You’ve barely spoken to me in the last three years. Did…did I do something wrong? Were you punishing me?”

 

“No, of course not, Sam. How could you think that?”

 

“Then what, Dean? Why haven’t you called, or come to see me until now? Jesus…there were nights I missed you so much I thought I was actually going to die. How could you abandon me like that?!” Sam asked as he slammed his clenched fists against Dean’s chest; unware that he was yelling until it was too late.

 

“…Like I said, I was trying to keep you safe.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Dean’s hands were around Sam’s neck in a flash, squeezing. Sam’s eyes widen but he didn’t struggle, just stared up at his brother with a look of hurt and confusion. Dean returned his gaze for a moment before his grip relaxed, letting out a string of curses as he leaned down to press their foreheads together.

 

“Damn it, Samuel...I just don’t trust myself around you.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“You empower me, Sammy…make me feel invincible. And…that’s not good given the person I am and what I’ve been doing. I knew that if we were together I’d get sloppy, and I couldn’t be responsible for getting you in trouble.”

 

Sam’s stomach was in knots, breath ragged as he lay there, trying to absorb the information his brother was giving him. And he wasn’t sure what was more disturbing; that he was registering Dean’s word and not running, or that he was actually upset that his brother had kept him out of the loop in some heroic attempt to protect him. Either way, Sam was disgustingly aware that he was entirely far too focused on the wrong issues; which mortified him.

 

“I’m an adult, Dean. It’s my decision.”

 

“I know that, baby…but you’re also my little brother. I’ll never stop looking out for you.”

 

Dean peppered soft kisses across the younger man’s cheeks. Sam wanted to be angry with his brother but it was no use because, even though he hated to admit it, he understood why Dean had done what he did. Dean had made it clear ever since they were kids that his main priority was taking care of Sam. And even though he wanted to, Sam couldn’t be mad at his brother for following through on that objective.

 

“…Wh-what changed then? Why are you here now? Why are you willing to show me whatever it is you want to show me tonight?”

 

“Cause I’m lonely, Sammy…and mom’s death made me realize that without her, I literally only have one person on this planet that I…c-care about…and I can’t live without you by my side anymore. I want you. It’s me and you against the world, baby boy. It always has been.”

 

Sam’s heart was pounding in his ears. A part of him couldn’t believe what he was hearing; couldn’t believe that Dean, who had always kept his emotions in check, was actually there in front of him, confusing that he needed Sam. Perhaps it was because growing up Sam always felt as though he needed Dean more than Dean needed him. He always felt so desperate, like he had something to prove to his big brother. And hearing Dean’s true feelings, knowing his brother needed him as well, was like an electric shock to his brain.

 

“Yeah, it is, Dee…I’m so glad you finally came to me, and that you are ready to be honest.”

 

“Don’t get too excited just yet, baby. Not until you know the whole truth,” Dean chuckled as he shifted to lay beside Sam, the younger man turning on his side so they were facing each other.

 

“It’s okay, big brother. There’s nothing you can say or do that could stop me from taking my place by your side.”

 

Dean gave Sam an affectionate smile that made his heart flutter. Scooting closer, the older man stroked his hair, tangling their legs together as they stared into each other’s eyes. Sam wrapped his arm around his brother’s waist, returning his smile.

 

He was so overwhelmed with emotion that he could barely function. What they were doing was so intimate, real. Unlike anything they’d ever done before. And admittedly, Sam loved the feeling; loved the way the world seemed to revolve around that moment. They were safe and happy. The two of them, together forever. However, Sam was also terrified. He’d never felt something so powerful before, so intoxicating; and he was extremely worried about what he might do to retain that feeling. What he’d do if someone or something ever threatened to take it away.

 

“I sure hope so, Sammy, cause if you decide after tonight that you’re out, it’s over for me.”

 

“Dee...Don’t say that. Don’t you dare talk like that.”

 

“It’s the truth, brother. There ain’t no me if there ain’t no you. I’m tired of going at it alone.”

 

“You aren’t alone, Dee. Not anymore. I’m with you now.”

 

Sam quickly leaned forward, kissing Dean with everything he had. He wanted his brother to feel his love, feel the depth of his loyalty.

 

“I love you,” Sam moaned into his brother’s mouth as he ranked his fingernails down Dean’s back.

 

Dean responded by kissing him harder, right hand wrapping around Sam’s still half hard cock. He began to stroke Sam at a steady pace, causing the younger man to involuntarily buck his hips. Dean’s strokes were slow, deliberate; each ending with a gentle twist, thumb periodically teasing the head of Sam’s leaking cock.

 

“Say it again.”

 

Sam whimpered when Dean removed his hand from his erection to lick a strip up his palm. The older man waited patiently, eyes locked with Sam’s as he lightly run his fingertips along the length of his brother’s cock; toying with him.

 

“I love you, Dee.”

 

Moaning loudly, Sam threw his head back in ecstasy when Dean gripped his cock once more, stroking him at a much faster pace. His brother trailed searing hot kisses down his neck before latching on to the sensitive flesh. Sam buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, hips arching off the bed as he came with a shout, eyes closed tight.

 

“ _Mine_ ,” Dean whispered against the large bite mark on Sam’s neck, stroking his brother a few more times; working him through his release.

 

Sam turned to lay on his back, chest heaving and slick with sweat. His eyes were still close but he could feel Dean kissing him; his neck, chest, cheeks. He reached out blindly, arms wrapping around the older man’s neck, holding him close. Sam’s body was tingling with pleasure, limbs heavy. He never wanted to move, just wanted to stay there, molded to the man he loved. The man who owned him, in every sense of the word.

 

“You got class today, don’t ya, Sammy?”

 

The sudden sound of Dean’s voice startled Sam. He wasn’t quite sure how long they’d been laying there, all he knew was that he’d almost dozed off, warm and safe in his brother’s arms.

 

“…Yeah, but I already missed my first lecture.”

 

“Shit. Well, c’mon then. Let’s get you in the shower.”

 

“I don’t wanna go, Dee. Can’t I just spend the day with you?”

 

“No, baby boy, you gotta go to class. I’m not gonna be responsible for you slacking off. Besides, we’re spending the night together. Now, let’s get in the shower and afterwards we’ll get you some breakfast and I can give you the address of the motel I’m staying at so you can come there straight after school.”

 

“…What you have to show me…it’s at your motel?”

 

“Not yet, but it will be.”

 

Dean’s cryptic words sent a shiver across Sam’s body as he forced himself to sit up. His brother was on his feet now, hand stretched out for him to take.

 

“Okay, big brother,” Sam agreed, trying to hide his reluctance as he allowed Dean to lead him into the bathroom.

 

Sam had no idea how he was going to get through his classes that day without having a nervous breakdown, but he was going to try his best for Dean. He just had to think positive. Sam knew, deep in his heart, that whatever happened that night wasn’t going to stop him from following Dean to Hell and back. However, that didn’t stop him for worrying that he and his brother might be on the road to a permanent home there, rather than just visiting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's been FOREVER since I've update. :( As always, please forgive any mistakes I didn't catch. <3
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> *I know this is tagged as being dark and graphic but I just wanted to warn everyone that there is such content in this update.*

When Sam arrived at Dean’s motel later that evening, the sun had begun to set. The sky was a beautiful swirl of pink, orange, and blue as he pulled into the parking lot, palms sweaty and his nerves frazzled. He’d been a mess all day, trying desperately to guess what Dean had in store for him; and now that the time had come, Sam was practically shaking with anticipation.

 

Quickly, he pulled his car into the main lot, which apart from four other vehicles, including Dean’s Impala, was fairly empty.

 

Sam parked in the first available space he came to before cautiously examining his surroundings. As he killed the engine, Sam noticed that the motel was quite small; just a ratty grey building with one level and that half of the letters in the VACANCY sign that hung above the lobby were burned out. Truthfully, the structure looked extremely out of place against its background of palm trees and the beautiful California sunset.

 

Taking one last deep breath, Sam grabbed his overnight bag from the passenger’s seat and got out of the car. And once the door was shut and locked behind him, he headed toward room 12C where his brother had texted him to go earlier that day.

 

As he walked, a crisp breeze blew through the trees, sending a chill though Sam’s body. The whole situation irked him, if he was being honest. Sam wasn’t crazy about being in such a shady neighborhood, and he sure as hell didn’t like the fact that Dean was staying at this dump. Why they couldn’t meet at Sam’s dorm was beyond him, but Dean had made it clear that they had to spend the night at his motel so he didn’t argue. Despite how much he wanted to.

 

Pushing his angst ridden thoughts aside, it thankfully didn’t take Sam long to find Dean’s room. Hastily pounding on the door, he didn’t have to wait long before his brother answered, million dollar smile spread across his beautiful pink lips.

 

“Hey, baby boy.”

 

Grabbing Sam by the collar of his shirt, Dean pulled the younger man inside the room and into a frantic kiss. Dropping his bag, Sam wasted little time kissing Dean back, overcome with happiness now that he and his brother were together again.

 

“Missed you, Dee,” Sam confessed, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck as his brother pushed the door closed behind them.

 

“It’s only been a few hours, Sammy,” Dean chuckled as he massaged Sam’s scalp with his fingertips, trailing chaste kisses across his jawline.

 

“Doesn’t matter, I missed you so much it hurt.”

 

Leaning forward, Sam held his brother tight, nuzzling his face into the crook of Dean’s neck. Normally, the younger man did his best to keep needy confessions like that to himself, but he figured if his brother was willing to share his secrets, he should at least being willing to reciprocate.

 

And Sam’s biggest, most terrifying secret was that he **needed** Dean. Sure, Sam could function without his big brother but he was merely _surviving_ when Dean wasn’t around. It was only when Dean was by his side that he was truly _living_.

 

“You need me that bad, baby?”

 

Dean placed both of his hands on Sam’s cheeks, forcing the younger man to look him. The expression on his face with difficult to read, but there was a lustful gleam in his green eyes that made Sam feel as though someone had lit his insides on fire.

 

“Don’t play dumb, big brother. You know how much I need you.”

 

Sam knew, even before he was done with his sentence, that his sarcastic tone was going to get him into trouble. Which was why he barely even flinched when Dean’s hands found their way to his throat, the older man forcefully pushing him backward against the door.

 

“What’s gotten into you, Samuel? That pretty little mouth of yours is out of control,” Dean growled, his cock starting to harden against the younger man’s stomach when Sam whimpered.

 

Dean did have a point. Usually, Sam kept his mouth shut and did exactly as Dean told him to. He didn’t speak out of turn, and he didn’t push his brother to talk about issues he didn’t want to.

 

What Dean didn’t know, however, was that Sam had planned to speak his mind that night from the minute his older brother had decided to show him whatever it was he’d been hiding from Sam all those years. Truthfully, Sam was beyond done acting like what he and Dean had was just some normal brotherly bond. He’d been forced to hide his love for Dean his entire life, but he wasn’t going to anymore. Especially not now that his big brother was finally willing to open up to him.

 

“I asked you a question, little brother.”

 

Doing his best to remain conscious, Sam could feel blood trickling down the back of his head from where his skull had collided with the wall as he struggled for breath. He clawed at Dean’s chest, letting out a strangled moan when his brother began to grind against him.

 

“I’m tired of playing games, Dean,” Sam gasped, his cock aching for more attention than just the teasing roll of his brother’s hips. “I want us to be together. I want us to belong to each other, completely.”

 

In response, Dean slowly loosened his grip on Sam’s neck, looking the younger man in the eyes. Coughing, Sam desperately tried to catch his breath but didn’t put up a fight when Dean grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it off of him before tossing the material to the floor.

 

With his back flat against the wall, he watched as Dean placed his hands on Sam’s bare chest, fingers kneading the sensitive flesh. Suddenly, the sound of Sam’s ragged breath filled the room, his heartbeat pounding so loud in his ears he could barely think.

 

“I want that too, baby boy, but there’s some stuff you gotta know about me first.”

 

Nodding his head, Sam allowed Dean to lead him to the bathroom, trying his best to walk on shaky legs. His head was swimming, but he was able to make it to their destination, leaning against his brother for support.

 

“Is what you want to show me in there?” Sam asked timidly, holding his brother hand tight as Dean opened the door with his free one.

 

Remaining silent, Dean answered Sam’s question by pushing open the door, revealing a perfect view of the tub. The curtain was drawn back, and Sam had to force himself not to shout in horror when he realize that it housed a petite blonde girl who was bound and gagged; her face stained with mascara as she wept silently.

 

“Whaddaya think, Sammy? Ain’t she pretty?”

 

“…Dean…wh-what the hell? Who is that? Is she the girl the police are looking for?”

 

Sam felt light-headed. In the back of his mind, he’d **known** his brother was responsible for Natalie Collins disappearance, there was no denying that; but it was completely different to see it with his own eyes. To see his brother’s victim, naked and vulnerable, blue eyes fixed on his big brother with a look of pure fear reflecting in them.

 

“No, baby boy, you know I took care of that loose end last night.”

 

“The…blood on your shirt…that was Natalie’s?”

 

Dean slowly nodded his head yes, green eyes boring into Sam’s hazel ones. He didn’t know why his brother’s confession was such a shock to him, but when the reality of what Dean was saying hit Sam, he started to hyperventilate. He could feel bile rising up in his throat, barely making it to the toilet before he vomited; tears streaming down his cheeks as he heaved violently.

 

“Hey, easy, Sammy. Just breathe.”

 

Sam’s whole body was trembling, skin slick with sweat as he fought to get himself under control. He was vaguely aware that Dean was kneeling by his side, rubbing his back smoothly, telling him to calm down. Sam couldn’t calm down though, not after his brother had just admitted to hurting an innocent girl. And certainly not with the sound of his latest victim sobbing against her gag just a few feet away from him.

 

 

“Dee, why? I don’t understand,” Sam gasped right before another wave of nausea washed over him.

 

“Why? Well, the simple answer, little brother, is that I’m fucked in the head.”

 

Dean was so relaxed that it honest to God scared Sam. Which felt utterly, and completely wrong. Sam had never been afraid of his big brother. At least not for his own safety, anyway.

 

“…Bullshit. You can’t tell me you kidnap and… _hurt_ innocent women just be-fucking-cause.”

 

Slumping forward, Sam rested his forehead on the rim of the toilet, eyes closed as he struggled not to throw up again. He could feel Dean running his fingers through his hair, just the thought of the older man’s touch like pins and needles all across his skin.

 

This was so wrong.

 

How could he just sit there and let Dean get away with this? How could Sam even let his big brother anywhere near him after what he’d just found out? And why was he so desperate for an explanation? Shouldn’t Dean’s confession to being batshit crazy have been good enough?

 

“You’re right, baby boy. I have a reason…it’s not much of one, but it’s what fuels my desire to kill nonetheless.

 

His brother’s words were like a cinderblock to the gut. _Desire to kill_. Jesus Christ. It didn’t matter what Sam had known in his heart since they were kids, he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What Dean was telling him. That his big brother was finally exposing his dark, cruel nature to Sam.

 

“…Tell me.”

 

It was a struggle, but Sam was able to lift his head, forcing himself to look Dean in the eyes even though the room was spinning. He could still hear the muffled sounds of the girl in the bathtub screaming, her pale, exposed skin visible out of the corner of his eye as she flailed around unsuccessfully.

 

“Power.”

 

Dean’s voice was rough, the older man practically growling the word. His pupils were dilated, barely a sliver of green visible as he reached up with is right hand, gingerly wiping Sam’s mouth with the sleeve of his Henley. And even though he was on his knees, Sam had never seen his brother look more dominating. It was as though he was larger than life, completely in his element. Steady and confident.

 

“It’s a rush, Sammy. I’ve seriously never felt anything like it. You have no idea what it’s like to hold that kind of power. To have that kind of control. I can decide, baby. It’s up to me when she takes her last breath, and the thought makes me so fucking hard I can barely think straight,” Dean confessed as he placed Sam’s right hand over the zipper of his jeans, rubbing his little brother’s palm against his erection.

 

“…Dean…”

 

Whatever Sam had planned to say completely left his brain when Dean’s lips crashed into his. Under normal circumstances, he would have pushed his brother away given the fact that he’d just thrown up, but Sam needed the kiss. He needed to wrap his arms around Dean, to feel his brother’s grip tight on his arms, bruising his skin; teeth sinking into his bottom lip, making him bleed.

 

“I know this is a lot to process, baby brother. Just tell me what I can do.”

 

Dean ran his tongue along Sam’s bottom lip, teeth stained red with the younger man’s blood. They were chest to chest now, both breathing heavily as they stared into each other’s eyes; desire swirling around in there gaze like a hurricane.

 

“…I just…I need a minute. Can…you go get me some water? There’s a bottle in my overnight bag.”

 

Giving Sam a quick nod, Dean stood without another word and exited the bathroom, half closing the door behind him out of habit. And once Sam was alone, he couldn’t help but let out a broken sob, attempting to muffle the pathetic sound with his left palm. He was so overwhelmed he thought he might actually faint, heart jackhammering in his chest as he shifted his position so that he was sitting with his back against the nearest wall.

 

What the fuck was he going to do?

 

On one hand, Sam, God help him, completely understood Dean’s desire, but quite frankly, irrational need to feel powerful. From a very young age, John had convinced Dean that he was weak, not only physically but mentally as well. He’d blame Dean for his poor impulse control, ignoring the obvious fact that his eldest son needed medication and professional help for his issues.

 

John took his frustrations with Dean’s behavior out on him physically, beating him until he couldn’t take it anymore, forcing his son to tell him he’d had enough. Of course, Dean had endured horrendous amounts of pain to prove his father wrong, to show the older man that he could handle anything his father dished out, but even Dean had a breaking point. And John had pushed him to it, daily. Just another way to remind Dean that he wasn’t in control, no matter how hard he pretended he was. John was there, like a pair of plyers slowly and agonizingly pulling back the layers of Dean’s skin, throwing his flaws in his face and making him hate himself even more.

 

Dean had felt weak and out of control for most of his life, so of course he’d seek out such an intense situation to dominant. It was similar to the way he took charge over Sam sexually. In both cases, Dean decided his partner’s, or dare Sam say victim’s, fate. Whether the other person felt pleasure or pain all rested on Dean’s mood, his touch, his influence. Power like that had to be intoxicating. And Sam couldn’t sit there and reprimand, or even condemn, his brother for wanting it. Especially having seen the torture John had put Dean through in the early stages of his life. If anything, Dean deserved retribution. A chance to prove how powerful and controlled he really was. The way Sam knew he could be. Of course, that type of rationalization was completely off the reservation. He was entirely far too aware of that, but Dean needed this. It was clear. And Sam, even when it was to his detriment, was prone to letting Dean have whatever he needed.

 

 

However, on the other hand, Sam wasn’t without a conscience. And he couldn’t just ignore the fact Dean’s victims were innocent, scared women who had families and friends. Not to mention, when it came down to the brass tacks of it, they were talking about **murder**. They were talking about his brother taking a woman’s life for his own sick, twisted needs and the very thought made his stomach turn. Sam’s undying love for Dean aside, how could he stand by and let him commit such heinous acts without becoming every bit the monster his brother was when killed?

 

Drawing in a deep, ragged breath, Sam was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a muffled cry. Looking up, his eyes immediately focused on the blonde in the tub, who met his gaze, pleading expression on her face.

 

“Please don’t be scared, I promise I won’t hurt you,” Sam said weakly as he reached into the front left pocket of his jeans to retrieve his cell phone.

 

Frantically nodding her understanding, the girl watched intently as Sam unlocked his phone, hastily hitting the keypad button. He could practically feel the blonde willing him to continue as his thumb shook violently, hovering over the nine; mind and body wrestling with the decision he had to make.

 

Ultimately, however, Sam just couldn’t do it. He honestly didn’t know why he had even tired in the first place. Sighing, Sam shook his head as he repeatedly hit the back button until his home screen was visible, the picture of him and Dean in the background sending a sharp pain through his heart.

 

“Who ya callin’, Sammy?”

 

The low, angry tone of Dean’s voice hit Sam like a bucket of ice water. Looking up slowly, he met Dean’s eyes, green irises burning with rage, putting Sam’s stomach in knots. The desperate, pitiful sounds of the blonde’s sobs reached Sam’s ears as Dean walked toward him predatorily.

 

“Answer me, Samuel! Who did you call?!” Dean bellowed; expression on his face wild, like a caged animal desperate to escape.

 

Sam could barely think, let alone speak. He made serval attempts to explain himself but he just couldn’t form the words. Rocking up on his knees, Sam tried to make up for his lack of speech by reaching out for Dean, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around the older man. However, he immediately abandoned his mission when the back of Dean’s left hand came down across his cheek, the blow bringing tears to his eyes.

 

“I panicked, Dee, I’m sorry! Please, I’d never turn you in, **never**!” Sam promised; flinching violently when Dean threw the bottle of water he’d retrieved for his brother at the wall behind him.

 

In a flash, Dean had his fingers tangled in Sam’s hair, yanking him up off the floor. The younger man let out a loud yelp as he struggled to stand, clawing at Dean’s forearms helplessly. And once he was on his feet, Sam barely had time to comprehend what was happening before Dean shoved him as hard as he could, back colliding with the tilted wall of the bathroom.

 

“Why, Sam?! Why didn’t you turn me in?” Dean asked, hands snaking around his brother’s throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. “You should have called the cops and ran.”

 

“I-I’d ne-ver ru-n aw-ay from yo-u.”

 

Sam’s vision was starting to become blurry when Dean released him, backing away from the younger man as if the touch of his skin had burned him. And for a long while, the two of them just stood there mesmerized by each other, chests heavying, bodies trembling.

 

“…Say it.”

 

Dean was the first to speak, closing the gap between them as he looked up into Sam’s eyes, cupping his cheeks in his hands.

 

“I love you, Dean, and I’m not going to leave you.”

 

Suddenly, Dean’s mouth was on Sam’s, kissing, licking, biting, completely claiming him. Without a second thought, Sam kissed back, wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist, relief flooding his system.

 

This was _his_ Dean.

 

“M’sorry, baby boy. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” Dean purred as he cupped Sam’s cock in his palm, rubbing it gently through the denim of his jeans.

 

“…It’s okay, Dee…I…just need time.”

 

Arching his back, Sam moaned loudly when Dean applied a little more pressure, his cock instantly responding.

 

“I understand, Sammy…why don’t you go in the other room while I finish up in here? I’ll take care of you when I’m done, promise.”

 

Looking over Dean’s shoulder, Sam felt a strange pain in his stomach when he made eye contact with the blonde, who had begun to flail around again. She was terrified, thrashing and clawing at the tub, trying to break free of her bounds. It physically hurt Sam to see such a delicate creature so craze, desperate to survive. And yet, he was also intrigued.

 

“…I wanna watch.”

 

The words left Sam’s mouth before he could stop himself, eliciting a filthy, wanton sound from his brother. Stepping back, Dean kept his eyes on Sam as he removed his shirt, wicked smirk on his face.

 

“You sure, baby?”

 

Sam nodded his head, not really sure of anything but he wasn’t going to back down now.

 

“Okay, Sammy. Just follow my lead.”

 

Dean’s voice was calm, smooth like honey as he kicked off his shoes. He gave Sam an encouraging smile when the younger man did the same before he tugged off his socks, singing his brother’s praises when he followed suit.

 

And once they were both down to just their jeans, Dean walked over to the tub, gently lifting his victim up by her arms so he could sit on his knees behind her. Carefully, he leaned her back against his chest, whispering for her to be good as she struggled against him.

 

“Shh, easy, sweetheart,” Dean cooed, pressing soft kisses down the shell of the blonde’s ear. “I’ll play nice if you do.”

 

Visibly shaking, the blonde looked up at Dean, his words seeming to resonate with her. She stopped resisting, body tense against her capturer’s as she tried not to cry.

 

“Perfect. That’s a good girl.”

 

Smiling, Dean gently wrapped his right arm around the blonde’s stomach, kissing her neck as he whispered words of encouragement.

 

How Dean had managed to get her under control with just a few simple words was beyond Sam. All he knew was that he felt a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach, dark and uncontrollable, that wasn’t there until his brother started coddling his victim.

 

He was _jealous_.

 

The feeling hit him like a tidal wave, seeping into his skin, threatening to drown him. Who was this bitch to deserve that tone of voice from Dean? From _his_ big brother. Sam was good for Dean. Better than this girl could ever dream of being. She didn’t earn that praise, and hearing it left a sour taste in Sam’s mouth.

 

As a matter of fact, Sam was so consumed with rage that he didn’t even notice Dean reaching into his front left pocket to retrieve his knife. Nor did he see his brother flick open the blade, bringing it up to rest against the hollow of his victim’s small, pale throat.

 

“Look at me, gorgeous.”

 

Sam heard Dean’s command, felt it like a punch to the gut as he watched the blonde wrapped in his brother’s arms look up into his eyes. She was sobbing, pleading against her gag as Dean stared at her longingly, green irises shimmering with malicious intent.

 

“So good for me.”

 

Dean moved impossibly fast, dragging the blade of his pocket knife across his victim’s flesh, slicing open her throat with one swift motion. Sam involuntarily jumped at the sight of blood rushing from the blonde’s wound, skin prickly and soaked with sweat as she gasped, struggled helplessly. He felt the color drain from his face, gaze settling on Dean who hadn’t taken his eyes of his victim, watching her bleed out, his lips curled up at the end in a satisfied smirk.

 

Sam felt sick to his stomach all over again. Not only because he’d just witnessed his brother _kill_ someone, but because he **wanted** Dean to do it. He’d been so consumed by jealously that he’d even contemplated ending her life himself. And now, seeing this girl’s lifeless body in Dean’s arms, his brother covered in her blood, Sam loathed himself because he couldn’t even bother to care that she was dead. No, the only thing that matter to him was that he had Dean to himself once more.

 

“C’mere, Sammy.”

 

Dean gently pushed the blonde’s body forward, laying her face down in the tub before he stood up and stepped onto the tile. His chest was dark red, jeans splattered with his victim’s blood as Sam walked over to stand in front of him, so many emotions running through his mind that he didn’t even know what to do with himself. However, that didn't stop him from noticing the smug look of satisfaction on Dean's face. He knew his brother was riding a high that made him feel better than any drug ever could, and the thought made Sam **wanton**. It made him want to share that high with his big brother, to feel the spicy-sweet sensation of pleasure coat his body from head to toe. He wanted to feel as utterly wrecked as Dean looked; wanted to make his brother come so hard each time they achieved that status together that he'd still feel eu-fucking-phoric a week later. And that's when Sam realized he was rock hard, pants tented and tight around his crotch, just like Dean.

 

“Take off your jeans and lay on the floor face up.”

 

Sam’s breath hitched in his throat upon hearing Dean’s command but he obeyed nevertheless, hands trembling as he undid his pants, shimmying out of them and kicking the material to the side.

 

“No, not those, Sammy, leave em’ on,” Dean purred when Sam hesitated to take off the panties he was wearing, hands hovering over the light blue lace covering his hips.

 

Nodding Sam left the panties in place and sank down to the floor, stretching out on his back horizontally in front of his big brother.

 

“L-like this, Dee?”

 

“Just like that, baby boy.”

 

Sam bit his bottom lip, watching silently as Dean removed his jeans as well before laying down on top of the younger man. He could feel his brother’s skin, warm, and slick with blood pressed against him firmly; hips slowly starting to grind against his own as Dean looked him in the eyes, supporting his weight on his forearms near Sam’s shoulders.

 

“So, what did ya think, Sammy?” Dean wondered, his cock brushing against Sam’s, sliding along the soft, delicate material of his panties and making him moan.

 

“…I dunno…” the younger man mumbled in reply as he gripped Dean’s back, fingernails digging into the soft, heated flesh.

 

“Don’t give me that shit, little brother. I saw your face.”

 

Dean leaned down, sucking on Sam’s neck, sharp teeth nipping at the bruises littered across his throat as the younger man arched his hips, cock throbbing and slick with pre-cum, soaking his panties.

 

“I- I hated the way you talked to her…”

 

“Why, baby? She was good for me, even when she knew she was gonna die. Don’t you think she deserved praise for that?”

 

“I don’t care, Dee! I’m good for you, always! I couldn’t stand hearing you talk to some random bitch off the street the way you talk to me when you’re inside of me.”

 

“Aw, were you jealous?”

 

Turning his head away, Sam felt his cheeks turn scarlet with blush, hating the condescending tone of his brother’s voice.

 

“C’mon on now, sweetheart,” Dean cooed, kissing Sam’s exposed cheek repeatedly, right hand slipping between their bodies and into his little brother’s panties.

 

“Oh God, Dean!”

 

Sam’s cock throbbed and twitched in Dean’s hand, his brother stoking him slow and sensually, mouth settling back on his throat. Rolling his hips, Sam kissed Dean’s temple, grip tightening on the older man’s back. However, Dean's steady pace didn't last long, movements becoming aggressive and frantic when he felt Sam's nails digging long, shallow cuts into his shoulders, blood trickling over his flex muscles. Sam screamed his brother's name when Dean’s teeth pierced his flesh, arching his hips off the tile; Dean now jerking him faster, rougher, grip like a vice, thumb teasing the glossy, swollen head of his cock mercilessly.

 

“You’re my good boy, Sammy. So fucking good for me all the time. That bitch was nothing, y’hear me? She was nothing to me, and you’re my everything.”

 

With a strangled moan, Sam came hard, soaking his panties as Dean worked him through his release, leaving the younger man a useless mess beneath him when he was done.

 

“Love you so much, Dee,” Sam gasped, body like Jell-O as he lay motionless against the tiled floor.

 

Soon, he felt himself slowly slipping from consciousness, the intensity of his orgasm mixed with tension and the heavy amount of stress he’d just gone through causing Sam to pass out cold.


End file.
